I remember
the last time I had a body:
it entered the room,
compact and silencing
and I let other things fling off their wires
and orbit the vaguest edge of my perception.
This body I had was so definite.
I gripped its contours
prodded its crevices
and let the mind within it
dominate my mind,
so long as my fingers
were free.
The possibility of another body
still diffuse
still marginal
just coming into its form
beneath casual finger flicks and hope-flecked eyes
strikes my brain.
My thoughts writhe with mind-body, body-body, mind-mind,
(how mental a response,
how unprepared I show myself to be
for this exchange of lines and limits
impulses and
culminations).
Give me your earlobe.
I'll give you my hum.
Offer your iliac crest
for me to rest my dappled notions on.
I have this hope your shape won't silence me.